Rain
by Iforgotmyformerusername
Summary: "In the end it was the rain that finally woke him up. He surely couldn't remember falling asleep somewhere outside. He couldn't really remember anything at all actually." Morse finds himself lying injured in an alleyway. Will he be able to get home? WARNING for blood and injury!
1. Chapter 1

**Mind you, I rated this T, but know that there are descriptions of blood and injury that you do not want to read if you're in any way sensitive to that. So if that is the case, please don't read this story.**  
 **If you don't mind, I'd say, enjoy!**

* * *

In the end it was the rain that finally woke him up. First only softly dripping on his face, then falling harder, as if the weather noticed he wouldn't wake by the soft pour only.

Morse groaned. Rain? He surely couldn't remember falling asleep somewhere outside. He couldn't really remember anything at all actually.

He would have let the darkness swallow him again if it wasn't for the cold that slowly started to make it's way into his dazed mind. But not only the cold finally got through to him. Pain, as well, started to become more and more noticeable.

Where it hurt? Morse couldn't tell. Everywhere. But as soon as he focused on it, he realised the extent. It wasn't just a slight discomfort, there really was something wrong. So he tried to pry his eyes open, to see what was happening. Only they were heavy, so heavy, and Morse didn't know if he really wanted them to open. Falling back into unconsciousness seemed a far better plan.

But something nagged at the back of his mind, a sense of urgency. There was something he was doing, something he should be doing. So he tried again, and this time his eyelids cooperated. But everything he saw through the mist of raindrops was stone. Bricks.

Where was he?

It was dark as well. Not in the midst of the night, but definitely far in the evening. He lay on his belly, on the street somewhere outside, that at least, he was sure of.

Now for the next step. Moving.

That was even harder than getting his eyes open, but he managed to at least lift his head and take a look at his surroundings. He was alone, on the ground in an alley. Closed in by walls on three sides, and a handful of bins and rubbish on the other. Judging by the sound of cars going past, he wasn't that far from the road, but it wasn't directly at the other end of the alley either.

This place, combined with the dazzling pain, didn't make it hard to figure out. Someone had knocked the living daylight out of him. Why couldn't he remember? His head hurt like hell though, that might have something to do with it.

He noticed a puddle of blood on the street, right where his head had just been. He suspected it came from his nose, breathing through it was almost impossible. He reached out to touch it, but the movement caused his arm too feel like it had splintered into a thousand pieces, and he couldn't help but gasp. He gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to subdue before trying to move his left arm. That seemed to go better, but this time his shoulder was loudly protesting, so he decided to let it rest. To say the fact that he was injured on the ground somewhere, hardly even able to move and without any recollection of what had occurred was worrying would be a huge understatement.

Would anyone know where he was? He hoped so, but he wasn't going to count on it. Thursday told him multiple times he should let someone know where he was going before storming off, and he hoped he had listened this time, but there was a fat change he hadn't. Morse knew himself well enough for that.

Thinking about the station also finally brought back memories about the case he had been working on. A girl, found dead in her car, which had been burned to the ground. An accident, it had seemed. But Morse had thought differently, to great amusement of Thursday apparently.

But he had been right. The autopsy had showed that the girl had been hit on her head, rather hard, before the car had started burning. So someone had knocked her out, sat her in the car and burned it down to make it look like an accident. And Morse had found out who. He knew he had. He just couldn't remember it for some reason. It was probably the same who was responsible for him lying here in the cold, but try as he might, he couldn't remember anything about what had happened. He couldn't even remember why he had left the station in the first place.

Frustrated, he let his head fall on the stone again. Which hadn't been the smartest idea, as it didn't do his blazing headache any good. The information would come back to him when his headache passed, he hoped. For now priority one was getting up, and back to the station. The seeping cold from the rain didn't make it any easier to start moving, but he knew he had to. He didn't want to think about the consequences if he wasn't be able to get up.

He started to roll around on his back, and muffled a cry when his sore shoulder had to bear his full weight. His ribs were worse though, he was positive at least one was broken, probably more, so he ended up lifted himself up a bit with his -relative- good arm to not completely squash his ribs into dust by rolling onto them.

Lying on his back, the rain mercilessly fell down on his face and in his eyes. It brought blood with it as the drops rolled down his cheeks, confirming that his nose had indeed been the one responsible for the puddle of blood on the street. _Well,_ he thought sourly, _the more you know._

After a moment of rest, he knew the next step was to sit upright.

And he wanted to, but everything was just so sore, and it was cold! Morse could feel it seeping into his bones, making his muscles weak and his brain even blurrier. He was breathing hard, he realised, and really just wanted to close his eyes. He didn't know if he had the energy left to move around, let alone walk.

With a start he realised he might have to come to terms with the fact that he would not make it out this time.

But he had to try, he had to try at least. For the girl. For her family. He was terrified he would never again remember who had murdered her, but if that were the case, he would find out again. He had figured it out before, he could figure it out again. But not if he was lying dead, somewhere in an alley.

With that in his mind, he heaved himself upright, arms and ribs screaming in protest. He bit his lip and moved over to the nearby wall, so he could rest his back against it. Groaning, he took a good look at what had been done to him, apart from the multiple bruises that would without a doubt turn blue and purple in a few hours.

His right arm was most likely broken, there was no strength left in his fingers. His left arm was mostly intact, though his shoulder had probably been dislocated at some point. It had popped back in his socket however, leaving only the pain of pulled muscles behind. Neither one of his legs seemed to be broken, so that was a huge relief, he would at least be able to stumble around a bit. Provided he could find the energy to do that, of course.

His ribs were by far the worst, with probably a few broken ones, as he had established. With hands shaking from the cold, and maybe the shock, he opened his jacket to examine his chest closer, and noticed the patch of blood on his shirt at his side. It wasn't a lot, but important nevertheless, and he got the awful feeling he knew what the cause could be.

He took a deep breath, and lifted his shirt to reveal what he had feared. One of the broken ribs had managed to puncture right through his skin. His breathing quickened and a sudden nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He pulled his shirt down quickly and tried not to think about the sight of it, or, more importantly, the damage a broken rib could do near vital organs.

He swallowed to keep the bile at bay and tried to get his breath back, but he found that neither really worked. Everything came up and he puked on the ground beside him, chest heaving with the effort. He ignored the sharp pain in his ribs as his stomach turned against him.  
He ignored the tears as well.

 _It's just blood._ Morse told himself as his heart pounded in his chest, and his ragged breathing turned into harsh coughs. _Just a bit of blood_. But it didn't seem to help.

After what seemed ages, his breathing finally slowed down again, and he rested his head against the wall behind him. He knew he had to get up, but he was so incredibly tired. His throat was sore and his ribs were killing him. Not to mention the constant pounding in his head. All the fight had gone out of him and he just wanted to sleep. Maybe he could rest for a while, just a little while. It rained still, but he didn't even feel the cold anymore. Morse closed his eyes. Just a little while, then he'd get up. Really.

* * *

The call came when Thursday was helping Win with the dishes.

"I'll go get it, love." He said, handing the towel to his wife, and walking to the hall to pick up the phone.

"Thursday."

He didn't recognize the officer at the phone, but whoever he was, he didn't waste any time. "Sir, someone is found injured in an alley, an ambulance is being called as we speak, but I thought you should know. His description matches that of Morse."

Thursday's heart skipped a beat. Morse? What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into now? He hoped with all his heart it wasn't serious, the lad had gone through enough already.

"Where is he?" He barked into the phone, already moving to grab his coat.

The officer gave an address, and Thursday hung up without as much as a thank-you. He turned to Win who came walking to the doorway, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"It's Morse, he might be injured." He offered by way of explanation.

Win looked shocked but recovered quickly and ushered him out of the door. "Go then," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "Call me if you know anything."

Thursday shrugged on his coat and took his hat. "I will." He said, as he hurried through the door.

The place wasn't too far from his house, if he drove a bit faster he might even be there sooner than the ambulance. He got into the car and, completely ignoring the speed limit, raced to the given address.

X

The ambulance indeed hadn't arrived yet when he arrived at the place, but Thursday could already hear the sirens in the distance. He hope they'd hurry.

He parked the car hastily on the side of the road, and made his way through the alley to find the spot the officer on the phone had mentioned. He desperately hoped that it wasn't Morse he would find, just another poor sod who happened to look like him. But as he turned the corner and saw the figure sitting in the rain, his heart fell and shattered on the ground.

It was Morse alright. Propped up against the wall, completely drenched and his eyes closed. There was blood on his shirt and on his face, where it stood out brightly against the ashen colour of his skin.

Someone else stood a few feet away looking very uncomfortable, but his expression turned to relief once he saw Thursday approaching. Thursday guessed it was the caller, but he ignored him as he ran past. He would thank him later. As he rushed to his fallen partner's side he could only hope they were not too late.

* * *

This time it wasn't the rain that woke him. No, in the distance someone was calling his name and it was getting louder and honestly, it was a tad annoying.

"Morse, Morse!"

There was something familiar about the voice, that was true, but really, did they _have_ to ask him to open his eyes? Again? What a drag.

Eventually though, he did, if only to tell whoever it was that was shouting to shut up. But as his view cleared and Thursday's face appeared, he realised there must be a reason for him calling.

"Morse?" Relief was evident on the DI's face.

"S-sir? What..?"

"Alright Morse, it's alright, you're safe."

Only then he remembered what had happened, and he immediately became aware of his sore body again. A soft whimper escaped his lips, and gods, whoever had beaten him had done a good job.

"It's alright, the ambulance is on it's way, just hold on a little longer alright lad?"

Thursday had draped his coat over him, Morse noticed, but still he couldn't help shivering in the cold. Sleep sounded marvellous right now. But as soon as his eyes drooped, a warm hand touched his cheek.

"Stay awake now, Morse, look at me."

Reluctantly he opened his eyes again. Recognizing, somewhere, that passing out right now probably wasn't the best idea.

After what seemed a lifetime, but what in fact had not even been a minute, two other figures showed up and he saw Thursday stepping out of the way.

Hands grabbed his shoulders and legs and Morse had to keep from crying out as he was lifted on a stretcher. As it was rolled into the ambulance one coherent thought entered his brain and Morse sighed in relief.

The boyfriend.

It was the boyfriend.

He knew he needed to tell Thursday, and turned his head to find him. When he saw Morse looking at him, Thursday, who had climbed into the ambulance as well, frowned. "Oh no, I know that look, don't you dare for one second think about the case now."

Morse could only whisper, but it was enough to get the message across. "The boyfriend killed her."

"You bloody fool." Thursday sighed in exasperation, but Morse didn't miss the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Knowing the information was safe, Morse could finally close his eyes again, and let darkness take him.

* * *

 **Reviews are much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**There were some lovely people on AO3 who asked for a second chapter, and Eliblack16 asked for more as well, sooooo here I am, posting an unexpected second chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Consciousness came slowly this time. First with clouds in his head, if felt as if he was still dreaming. Then, when he eventually realised he wasn't, his first thought was that he must be dead. Because that would explain the bright light behind his eyelids, and the comfortable warmth he was wrapped in.

But as the dull pounding in his head didn't cease and the world grew clearer, he knew he couldn't be dead. Not with a headache like _this._ There were voices in the distance, and a familiar beeping somewhere to his left. Which could only mean one place.

Hospital.

Not wanting to open his eyes to the lights just yet, he kept them shut and listened to the sound of people walking hither and yon. Soft voices, boots squeaking on tile, coughs and sneezes, the occasional laughter of some of the nurses, but overall it was relatively quiet.

Memories of what exactly had happened were vague, but he could at least remember something. Mostly confusion and a lot of pain, but also trying to get up and puking after seeing more blood than he had wanted to see. And he remembered having to pass on a message. Something important.

He must have blacked out again, but what had happened? Small chance he had made it back on his own. Looking in hindsight, trying to get up probably only aggravated the injuries he had. Then again, he could hardly just lay there and do nothing. How had he gotten here?

Morse guessed the only way to find out was to actually open his eyes and ask someone. If there _was_ someone that is.

As soon as he did he immediately squashed them together against the lights. Gods, he had forgotten how he hated hospitals. Even the smell was awful.

"Morse?"

He pried his eyes carefully open again and they trailed to the source of the familiar voice. Thursday was seated on a chair beside the bed, a worn expression on his face. What was he doing here?

"Good grief lad, you know how to give us a right good scare."

A scare? "Sorry sir?" His voice was dry, and Thursday handed him the glass of water on the nightstand.

"You were gone for a few moments." He said. "For a minute there I thought we might actually lose you."

Morse had rarely heard Thursday's voice so heavy. And full of... emotion? He sipped a bit of the water, the smooth liquid almost immediately softened his throat. "Thanks." He said as he returned the glass.

"What happened?" He asked. "I remember being in the alley, but beyond that.." He let his voice trail off as he realised he couldn't clearly remember what had happened before that either.

"There was a woman who found you and called the hospital," Thursday explained. "and they phoned the office. When I came there you were half-unconscious, but you did somehow manage to tell me you suspected the boyfriend of that girl to have murdered her." He grimaced. "They took you here, but it didn't look good. The doctors feared it would be too late. And it almost had been, I blame it on your bloody perseverance that you're still here."

Morse huffed. Perseverance for staying alive? Try to sell that to his 16-year old self.

But he did now remember passing that message on. Not only that, memories from before that started to slowly come back again. He remembered he had figured out the boyfriend, Gary Richard, had killed the girl. Gary had had the opportunity and the means. There was just one thing that needed checking, so he had left the station to go.. somewhere. Where exactly he had wanted to go was still a bit unclear, but he did recall seeing Gary with two of his co-workers on the street. What happened next wasn't hard to guess. He had asked him a question, about his alibi. It wasn't well received. At all.

"It was him, it was Gary Richard." Morse said with certainty. Although he couldn't really remember what they had talked about, the beating was as good as a confirmation.

"He's also the one who did this?"

Morse nodded. He clearly remembered talking to him. And being dealt the unexpecting first blow. He had tried to fight back, but he didn't really stand a chance. Not with the big bulk that was Gary Richard, plus two of his friends.

Would they be in on the murder as well, or would they just join any fight their friend had gotten into with no questions asked?

Thursday sighed, as if he had expected this to happen. "Figures. We've got him in custody now, we'll be questioning him tomorrow."

"We need to locate two of his friends as well." Morse told him. "They were there too, I don't know if they know about the murder, maybe they helped in some way."

"Do you remember who they were?"

Morse thought about it. "I can't really tell, my memory of the event is still a bit.. vague. But I'm sure I'll recognize them when I see them."

"Alright, we'll be on the lookout for them. Maybe Gary can tell us more tomorrow." Thursday said, then looked at him. "Don't worry about that though, you just get better. You've got some nasty injuries there."

Morse didn't need to be told, he knew the extent of his injuries all too well. Felt them, as well. And he knew his boss long enough to read the underlying meaning of that sentence: _I do not want to see you doing anything work related within at least the next few days_.

But there was no way he wasn't going to finish this case. They were so close to an answer, and after so many hours of research and brainstorming he wanted to see it through to the end. He had already lost a few hours because of this rather unfortunate turn of events.

"What time is it anyway?" He asked, wondering how much he had exactly missed. There was no clock or other indication of how much time had passed anywhere in the room. The drawn curtains revealed only that it was most likely still dark outside.

Thursday narrowed his eyes, which Morse knew to be a silent warning, but decided to drop it. He glanced at his watch. "It's a quarter to 9."

"In the morning?" He knew it was winter and all, but this dark at 9 in the morning?

"In the evening, actually."

Morse stared at him. Evening? It had been that long?

"Hold on, you mean to tell me I've been asleep for almost 24 hours?" He didn't even try to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Yes well, apparently you needed your sleep."

There was a silent rebuke in there, he knew, but Morse ignored it. A whole day had already passed. He frowned. That didn't make sense.

"Then, what happened? And why wasn't Gary Richard brought in sooner? Then he could've been questioned today couldn't he? Did I miss somethi- Ow" He started to sit upright, but was stopped by a flash of pain through his ribs. How he could have forgotten about them was beyond him.

"Alright calm down, before you hurt yourself even more. You didn't miss anything big." Thursday began, as Morse carefully lowered himself on the pillows again. "It was quite a pain to get to him, that's all. Bastard knew we were coming of course, with the stunt he pulled on you."

Morse sighed, that man had only made it so much worse for himself. He was glad they got him though, he thought as he stifled a yawn. The only thing left to do was to get a confession out of him and discover the roles of the other two in the dead of the girl. Whose name was Amanda, he suddenly remembered.

"Alright, but that is enough talk for today." Thursday announced as he stood up. The yawn hadn't escaped his notice. "I'll let you rest."

"I've been asleep for a whole day."

"True, but you always need more rest. Don't give me that look lad, you know it's true, with all these situations you manage to get yourself in. It's a miracle your brain hasn't completely given up yet."

Morse huffed, but found that he couldn't really argue with that. Visits to either the hospital or DeBryn seemed to become more and more frequent lately.

Thursday got up and donned his coat. "I'll pop by later. Take it easy alright?"

"Sir, why actually are you here? Surely not just to tell me you've arrested Gary Richard?"

The question had apparently come as a surprise to Thursday, because it took a few seconds before he replied.

"I wanted to check on you, of course. Told you you had us worried."

"But at 9 in the evening?"

Morse could've been mistaken, but he thought he saw the shoulders of the DI droop just slightly.

"Of course lad. Anytime. Surely you don't think you mean that little?"

Morse was taken aback for a minute, whatever it was he had expected to hear, this wasn't it. He tried to find something to say, but for once no smart comment arose.

Thursday gave him a small smile, and walked to the door. "Oh, by the way," he said just before he closed it, "Win will stop by tomorrow to bring some food, God knows hospital food is absolute rubbish." And with that, he was gone.

It took a few seconds for Morse to get the baffled look off his face.

"Thank you."

* * *

 **Let me know what you think!**


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